Hello all!
I'd love to post a giant update here right now, but I'm on vacation!!! Me and the pretty miss (Nicole) are out on the west coast enjoying a honeymoon-ish trip of sorts. I figure it is a better plan to enjoy the vacation and THEN write about it, as opposed to writing updates on my blog only, to return and have nothing to write about. Just my crazy idea anyways.
So far the trip has been lovely! Nicole and I travelled to Vancouver via train (there's a pun there if you'd like to try to find it). More on that later (it was fun / the sights were awesome / trains are full of hippies / no one likes Mike Harris). Then we headed to Nanaimo where we are currently staying at a fantastic beach house. Come Friday we leave the city that makes delicious deserts and might head to Seattle. From there we'll head back to Vancouver, stay downtown for a few days, and ultimately return home to Winnipeg next week. If I find myself stuck on a two hour ferry trip with nothing but waves to look at I'll try and post at least a mini-update. Till then hope you are all well back at home (or wherever you are) and I shall talk to ye soon! CHEERS!!!
--
Tom
PS: :)
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Alive, fully conscious, and no tubes in my throat!
So I don'f recommend the movie "Cedar Rapids". Partly because it wasn't very good, and partly because I was watching it when I had my last seizure this past Wednesday night. I'm not saying there is a direct causal link there... I'm just saying I don't know that there isn't. My wife/person-who-keeps-me-alive noticed my behaviour was a bit off and asked me to look her in the eyes. My eyes were moving a lot and I was blinking at an abnormal rate. She took this opportunity to call 9-1-1, and thus the paramedics out to the apartment. I don't remember this part but word has it I continued to seize and eventually was placed in a medically induced coma (which explains how it became Thursday without my knowledge). I also got to enjoy having a tube inserted in my throat... again (a process called intubation, which feels way less enjoyable then it sounds).
I'm going to keep this update short as I only got out of the hospital yesterday and still don't feel 100%... and these massive bruises on my arms/wrists don't make it easy to type. Among the highlights were "trying to leave the hospital" and the doctor telling my family "there was nothing they could do for me" (Note my typing this implies I am still very much alive). I shall provide more details in time. Until then just know that I am at home, recovering well and do not plan to return to any hospital(s) any time soon. Cheers!
--
Tom
I'm going to keep this update short as I only got out of the hospital yesterday and still don't feel 100%... and these massive bruises on my arms/wrists don't make it easy to type. Among the highlights were "trying to leave the hospital" and the doctor telling my family "there was nothing they could do for me" (Note my typing this implies I am still very much alive). I shall provide more details in time. Until then just know that I am at home, recovering well and do not plan to return to any hospital(s) any time soon. Cheers!
--
Tom
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Time for a serious one…
Tomorrow I have an appointment with my oncologist to discuss the results of my latest MRI. Those of you who have been following my blog will know the last results were “unclear” at best and “not great” on the lower end of the spectrum. Both Nicole and I have a lot of anxiety going into tomorrow’s visit. Living in the situation we are both living in is not easy (understatement?). A big problem is the “not knowing”. Sometimes I feel that bad news has benefits over no news in the sense that at least then you can plan for and deal with the future. Nicole and I cannot plan for our future. We find it hard to plan for next week. I feel terrible not being able to commit to our many friends with what should be a fun summer spent with friends & family. Instead my answer is usually “For sure! If we can; which we might not be able to.” Are we able to go out Friday night? That depends on whether or not we are an emotional wreck after having heard potentially bad news from our visit with the doctor. Can we go on a trip in a week or two? That depends on what the next round of treatments for me is and whether I have to be in Winnipeg for blood work or check-ups. Can I even go on a plane? From what I understand I’ve been given a “lifetime dose” of radiation treatments. Simply taking a cross-country flight exposes me to natural radiation from cosmic rays. Is thinking like this just being paranoid? Maybe. But when the thing on the line is your life, paranoia can be justified.
Nicole and I are hoping for the best. We aren’t sure what “the best” is. In another world “the best” is “IT’S GONE!!!” but that is not a possibility for us at this point. The best is to hear that the growth that showed up on the last MRI was pseudo-progression and that current treatments are working well. The other wonderful path would be that the tumour is in fact progressing (growing), but that they put me on some sort of trial drug (treatment) that I respond to and have success with (where success is “continuing to live”). The problem with trials is that they are trials for a reason. They don’t know if they work yet. When they do, it can be the case that they don’t work for most people. They key is that for the “some people” these trials do help, they can be helped dramatically and can live for long periods of time (where long = 10+ years). Neither one of us know what the results will be, but at least then we’ll know just a little bit better what our short term future will involve.
At some point it might come down to the need to have another surgery. This would be a craniotomy along the lines of what I had done the first time in November of last year. This is scary as last time I was lucky to have come out of my surgery with no impairments or deficits. It might go just as well a second time around or it might not. Nicole says it best when she says “I’d be happy as long as you were still you”. If I come out of surgery a quadriplegic I’d still be Tom, just less athletic than I am now (which admittedly isn’t very). It is possible I could come out of a surgery with a worse condition than cancer called “being a douchebag”. There have been cases where people have suffered some brain damage leaving them with completely new and unpleasant personalities. Anyone who has taken intro psych knows the case of Phineas Gage. This is a fear of mine as well. This fear is not exclusive to surgery. I do have a massive growth in my head that is constantly pushing on many parts of my brain. The two areas most likely to be affected by mine would be personality and memory. If I woke up tomorrow and had lost my sense of humour or optimistic attitude I would no longer be Tom. If I woke up tomorrow and forgot all that I had previously known I would not be Tom. So there is a day-to-day fear with many of these things and a fear of the possibility of facing these things at some point in the future.
I have to always remember how fast things can deteriorate. As of November 1st, 2011 life was pretty normal. As of December 1st, 2011 life was anything but. Today is July 7th, 2011. What will life be like on August 7th, 2011? Not I, nor Nicole, nor you, nor my oncologist knows the answer to that. But I have stated before and stand by my claim that it would be useless to sit around in fear waiting for what bad may come, for it might not come. I might respond well to whatever treatments I’m on and live to see a breakthrough medical advancement that allows me to live to the days when the tough question I must ask myself is “Do I really want to become part of the new human cyborg race?”
Another topic I want to cover (and have indirectly if not directly) in prior blog posts is Nicole. I have said and continue to say that she is by far the greatest thing in my life. It is unbelievable the strength she gives me. I find it terribly unfortunate that I get such support for everything I am going through, but Nicole doesn’t (in my opinion) get enough support for all she has to go through. Don’t get me wrong, her sister Jen, her Mom Pat, and her Dad Steve are amongst the greatest people alive and are amazing at offering the endless support to both Nicole and I. My point is merely that even this support is not enough. She doesn’t deserve to be going through all of this. It is terribly unfair that she has to deal even a day with everything she must go through. On November 23rd, 2011 Nicole’s life stopped too. Every day for her is spent facing unimaginable fears, sleepless nights, and she does so all while staying strong for me and keeping me on track.
I’m sure no one (not even I) can fully and truly appreciate or understand what Nicole is going through, but I think I am best poised to give a glimpse into her world. Nicole loves me more than anything in the world. I know this because she tells me all of the time (and I’m a pretty smart guy who can pick up on most things). She knows that I love her more than anything in the world (she’s a smart cookie too). For her the prospect of losing me is beyond upsetting. It is beyond fear-induced paralyzing. It is enough emotional pain that she feels it physically. She has had several panic attacks and after even the best of days is left to ask “I wonder how many of these I have left?” She says the nighttime is the worst. That is the time when all of the distractions are gone. There is no TV, no horrible Sears return to deal with, no “Papa?” to listen to. I think there is a spot on the ceiling that might wear through sometime soon.
She has put her life on hold for me. She has all but left her job, discontinued her studies at university, and dedicated her every waking moment to me. This allowed me to complete my university studies and earn a commerce degree that should rightly have her name somewhere on it. She never has complained or been bitter for a single second about any of this. She has assured me she’d rather incur a hundred years worth of debt so that I may enjoy my time, only for her to deal with it all later.
What Nicole is going through is like some sort of pre-death mourning period. She is constantly grieving a future loss that I am doing my best to avoid. She doesn’t express these feeling and emotions very much to anyone. She doesn’t want to burden me with any negative feelings and so often suffers alone. I always tell her to be honest and open with me, but ultimately it is too upsetting to watch the person I love so unbelievably much suffer and I end up breaking down myself. She, seeing me break down, then feels guilty for having told me anything and feels even worse. An important step for us both has been (and continues to be) the understanding that we are not a couple of people going through a crappy situation. We are ONE COUPLE going through a crappy situation (again… understatement). Her pain is my pain, and my pain is her pain. I have had to learn that I must tell her any symptoms I have, even though I know it will worry and upset her, because it is important for me to do so. She must know that she must not suffer alone and keep me from knowing her pain. We’ve gotten better at this, but I think we both still have room to improve. I now tell Nicole every time I have a pain or physical issue, but I sometimes have to convince myself to do so thinking “I don’t want to worry her” but then quickly remember “We are a couple. Any pain I am experiencing is a pain WE are experiencing and she has the right to know”.
I have cancer. Everyone knows this. Nicole has something worse than cancer. She has a husband with cancer. People know this, but probably don’t stop to give it much thought. I honestly believe I have it easy compared to her. I 100% mean that. #1) I would rather not have cancer. #2) I would rather have cancer than face the prospect of living a life without Nicole in it. I didn’t marry her thinking “Ya, she’s pretty cute. I could see spending some time with her!” I married her realizing I’d found my soul mate. I’m not a fate-believing astrological-sign-following hippie (my apologies to all the hippies out there), but truly what I have with Nicole is beyond words. This is not to say we don’t argue or agree on every issue. Alas I must at times compromise (which is how I view the toilet seat debate. She thinks she’s won, but really I would have left it down about 18% of the time anyways, so really I “met her in the middle”, or upper quintile if you will). She is my everything; she is my wife, my best friend, my pill sorter, my needle injector, my chauffeur, my grocery bag carrier, my confidant, and my therapist; she helps me become a better me. People often say, “You are so strong” to me. I am not strong. I just have Nicole. She is my strength, and yet I do not often hear people say to Nicole, “You are so strong, I can’t imagine what you are going through.”
This leads me back to a point I believe I had made at some point in the past (if not on this blog, then to some of you in person)… it shocks me and boggles my mind that anyone could ever accuse Nicole of being selfish or doing anything less than looking out for my best interest, but nonetheless this is exactly what was put before me. Again I return to a request for you to jump into Nicole’s white DC’s (step into her shoes). Here you are spending every waking hour at a hospital, scared out of your mind (but keeping it together for your then boyfriend’s sake), and doing all you can just to keep him mildly comfortable, only to have people question your motives for doing so? To say that would hurt would for sure be an understatement.
While I’m on a bit of a rant (minus the back alley, graffiti, and cool camera shots) I’ll bring in the issue of “things not to say”. I’m not so much doing this for the benefit of Nicole and I personally, but for the general understanding of what people like us go through in a situation like this and how NOT to say certain things.
For example, don’t use the word “just”… ever. Saying to either one of us, “You guys just need to stay strong” is not a smart thing to say. While it conveys a mild sense of support and well wishes, it also elicits an angry/sarcastic “Really? That’s it? I wish the doctor had told us that!” Take the word just out? Much better. Though still even without the word “just” such obvious statements are best left unsaid (I find). I realize in these situations no one knows what to say, but in such times simply being there for the person is more than any words could say. I myself recently faced such a situation myself after my wife’s best friend had her Grandfather pass away. Upon seeing her off to visit with her family that day I gave her a hug and said “I hope you have a good day”. I later realized how stupid that was to say, but Nicole reassured me “I think she was just happy you were there and gave her a hug” which was true. I would just say you don’t have to say anything to show support, and sometimes saying the wrong thing is worse than saying nothing at all.
When my father passed away I experienced countless expressions of sympathy from people. Some might say, “I’m so sorry.” Or “Don’t worry, things will get better with time.” The best words of sympathy I received from anyone were spoken by my then neighbour Jeff, who said three words: “That’s shitty man”. It touched me as no other words did because it meant simply “I understand”.
I had mentioned the possibility of the need for future surgery, which is in part why I am writing this blog update now. Once you are in the hospital, you don’t get to go for “Facebook / Blogger update time”, so best to say things now to cover future possible incidents.
#1) Nicole and I love the support we get from everyone but love and support are sometimes best from a distance. When you are in the hospital you are in a small, noisy, uncomfortable space. As nice as it is to see visitors, it can be overwhelming to deal with. I was terribly uncomfortable (physically and mentally) during my hospital stay 7 or so months ago. When guests arrived I felt the need to stay awake and talk to them, despite often being in pain and very tired (the hospital is not a great place to find good sleep). My social worker assured me this is a problem faced by the majority of hospital patients. I would not want to tell people not to come for a visit, however short visits to say “Hi, how are you doing?” are preferred to longer visits of people sitting in chairs staring at me for prolonged periods of time. During my rougher periods in the hospital I had made it clear to Nicole that I did not want visitors. I just wanted to sleep (or better yet “try to sleep”) which was not possible with people coming in and out. She indicated to others that it would be better not to come, which unfortunately some people took as Nicole trying to keep them away from me. Of course this is only natural given that from their perspective the (then) girlfriend is saying, “stay away” and when they show up the patient is saying “HEY GUYS! SO GLAD TO SEE YOU!” I truly was glad to see everyone who came, and it meant a lot to me. I just needed a lot of rest at that time. Perhaps a better future method would be to have designated “visiting hours” within the hospitals own allotted times such that I could get my rest guilt-free and be more alert for my visitors and be mildly awake to enjoy their company.
I’d like to repeat that I’m saying all of this in part to prepare for possibly finding myself in this situation again, but also to tell the patient’s side of the story to give people an understanding of what it is like to be in the hospital bed. If a patient tells all of his (or her) coworkers they’d be best not to come visit, it doesn’t mean there is some sort of issue between them, it just means they are in a lot of pain, on a lot of drugs, and less comfortable than time spent camping in the woods in a two person tent on top of a twin deflating air mattress.
#2) No whispering. Maybe this would not bother other people, but it bothered me. I found that a lot of the time my visitors would whisper to one another likely to avoid creating noise that would keep me from getting my rest. Instead it freaked me out and I became paranoid believing everyone was keeping secrets from me and that they all knew things they were not telling me. Maybe it was because some of the drugs I was on? All I know is that I far preferred it when people spoke at an audible level, even when speaking to one another, over the whispering.
#3) I want Nicole next to me as much as possible and as close as possible. Nicole often asked me “Do you want time to yourself?” offering to leave me alone in my hospital room while she went for a walk or some such thing. She was concerned I’d have “too much Nicole” and get tired of her being there. That was never even close to the case. If Nicole wasn’t there I was often panicked and felt anxious. More Nicole is better than Less Nicole. I think some people took this as Nicole trying to monopolize my free time (those times I was not in some sort of morphine-induced semi-nap) not allowing them to have such a time. Nicole never prevented anyone from having such a time and would have certainly left to allow anyone to have one-on-one time with me. No one ever asked. Perhaps some were thinking she would (should?) offer this up, but this was not the reality of the situation. For future, know that anyone (family, friend, tax collector or otherwise) is welcome to ask Nicole or anyone else in the room at that time for such time with me. Nicole would welcome it as I’m sure she had times where she was hungry or had to use the washroom but couldn’t bring herself to leave my side.
I think those are the most important points. Anyone who knows me knows that my number one concern is always “everyone else” and I am slowly learning to put myself somewhere on that list. This blog is being writing to express myself honestly without fear of “stepping on anyone’s toes” or feeling guilty for upsetting any of my readers. Those closest to me I have thanked a million times over for their love and support. I have discussed many of the above points with many of you one-on-one, but I felt it was necessary to have this discussion with everyone for the reasons I have already mentioned. I hope that I do not find myself in a hospital bed any time soon, but that if I do, everything will go smoothly and I won’t be in there long enough to have to worry about any of the above. I go for my results in about 24 hours +/- from now. I don’t expect I’ll be updating the world immediately afterwards or perhaps that day at all. I will try and make a point of giving at least a small update this weekend.
Cheers!
--
Tom
Nicole and I are hoping for the best. We aren’t sure what “the best” is. In another world “the best” is “IT’S GONE!!!” but that is not a possibility for us at this point. The best is to hear that the growth that showed up on the last MRI was pseudo-progression and that current treatments are working well. The other wonderful path would be that the tumour is in fact progressing (growing), but that they put me on some sort of trial drug (treatment) that I respond to and have success with (where success is “continuing to live”). The problem with trials is that they are trials for a reason. They don’t know if they work yet. When they do, it can be the case that they don’t work for most people. They key is that for the “some people” these trials do help, they can be helped dramatically and can live for long periods of time (where long = 10+ years). Neither one of us know what the results will be, but at least then we’ll know just a little bit better what our short term future will involve.
At some point it might come down to the need to have another surgery. This would be a craniotomy along the lines of what I had done the first time in November of last year. This is scary as last time I was lucky to have come out of my surgery with no impairments or deficits. It might go just as well a second time around or it might not. Nicole says it best when she says “I’d be happy as long as you were still you”. If I come out of surgery a quadriplegic I’d still be Tom, just less athletic than I am now (which admittedly isn’t very). It is possible I could come out of a surgery with a worse condition than cancer called “being a douchebag”. There have been cases where people have suffered some brain damage leaving them with completely new and unpleasant personalities. Anyone who has taken intro psych knows the case of Phineas Gage. This is a fear of mine as well. This fear is not exclusive to surgery. I do have a massive growth in my head that is constantly pushing on many parts of my brain. The two areas most likely to be affected by mine would be personality and memory. If I woke up tomorrow and had lost my sense of humour or optimistic attitude I would no longer be Tom. If I woke up tomorrow and forgot all that I had previously known I would not be Tom. So there is a day-to-day fear with many of these things and a fear of the possibility of facing these things at some point in the future.
I have to always remember how fast things can deteriorate. As of November 1st, 2011 life was pretty normal. As of December 1st, 2011 life was anything but. Today is July 7th, 2011. What will life be like on August 7th, 2011? Not I, nor Nicole, nor you, nor my oncologist knows the answer to that. But I have stated before and stand by my claim that it would be useless to sit around in fear waiting for what bad may come, for it might not come. I might respond well to whatever treatments I’m on and live to see a breakthrough medical advancement that allows me to live to the days when the tough question I must ask myself is “Do I really want to become part of the new human cyborg race?”
Another topic I want to cover (and have indirectly if not directly) in prior blog posts is Nicole. I have said and continue to say that she is by far the greatest thing in my life. It is unbelievable the strength she gives me. I find it terribly unfortunate that I get such support for everything I am going through, but Nicole doesn’t (in my opinion) get enough support for all she has to go through. Don’t get me wrong, her sister Jen, her Mom Pat, and her Dad Steve are amongst the greatest people alive and are amazing at offering the endless support to both Nicole and I. My point is merely that even this support is not enough. She doesn’t deserve to be going through all of this. It is terribly unfair that she has to deal even a day with everything she must go through. On November 23rd, 2011 Nicole’s life stopped too. Every day for her is spent facing unimaginable fears, sleepless nights, and she does so all while staying strong for me and keeping me on track.
I’m sure no one (not even I) can fully and truly appreciate or understand what Nicole is going through, but I think I am best poised to give a glimpse into her world. Nicole loves me more than anything in the world. I know this because she tells me all of the time (and I’m a pretty smart guy who can pick up on most things). She knows that I love her more than anything in the world (she’s a smart cookie too). For her the prospect of losing me is beyond upsetting. It is beyond fear-induced paralyzing. It is enough emotional pain that she feels it physically. She has had several panic attacks and after even the best of days is left to ask “I wonder how many of these I have left?” She says the nighttime is the worst. That is the time when all of the distractions are gone. There is no TV, no horrible Sears return to deal with, no “Papa?” to listen to. I think there is a spot on the ceiling that might wear through sometime soon.
She has put her life on hold for me. She has all but left her job, discontinued her studies at university, and dedicated her every waking moment to me. This allowed me to complete my university studies and earn a commerce degree that should rightly have her name somewhere on it. She never has complained or been bitter for a single second about any of this. She has assured me she’d rather incur a hundred years worth of debt so that I may enjoy my time, only for her to deal with it all later.
What Nicole is going through is like some sort of pre-death mourning period. She is constantly grieving a future loss that I am doing my best to avoid. She doesn’t express these feeling and emotions very much to anyone. She doesn’t want to burden me with any negative feelings and so often suffers alone. I always tell her to be honest and open with me, but ultimately it is too upsetting to watch the person I love so unbelievably much suffer and I end up breaking down myself. She, seeing me break down, then feels guilty for having told me anything and feels even worse. An important step for us both has been (and continues to be) the understanding that we are not a couple of people going through a crappy situation. We are ONE COUPLE going through a crappy situation (again… understatement). Her pain is my pain, and my pain is her pain. I have had to learn that I must tell her any symptoms I have, even though I know it will worry and upset her, because it is important for me to do so. She must know that she must not suffer alone and keep me from knowing her pain. We’ve gotten better at this, but I think we both still have room to improve. I now tell Nicole every time I have a pain or physical issue, but I sometimes have to convince myself to do so thinking “I don’t want to worry her” but then quickly remember “We are a couple. Any pain I am experiencing is a pain WE are experiencing and she has the right to know”.
I have cancer. Everyone knows this. Nicole has something worse than cancer. She has a husband with cancer. People know this, but probably don’t stop to give it much thought. I honestly believe I have it easy compared to her. I 100% mean that. #1) I would rather not have cancer. #2) I would rather have cancer than face the prospect of living a life without Nicole in it. I didn’t marry her thinking “Ya, she’s pretty cute. I could see spending some time with her!” I married her realizing I’d found my soul mate. I’m not a fate-believing astrological-sign-following hippie (my apologies to all the hippies out there), but truly what I have with Nicole is beyond words. This is not to say we don’t argue or agree on every issue. Alas I must at times compromise (which is how I view the toilet seat debate. She thinks she’s won, but really I would have left it down about 18% of the time anyways, so really I “met her in the middle”, or upper quintile if you will). She is my everything; she is my wife, my best friend, my pill sorter, my needle injector, my chauffeur, my grocery bag carrier, my confidant, and my therapist; she helps me become a better me. People often say, “You are so strong” to me. I am not strong. I just have Nicole. She is my strength, and yet I do not often hear people say to Nicole, “You are so strong, I can’t imagine what you are going through.”
This leads me back to a point I believe I had made at some point in the past (if not on this blog, then to some of you in person)… it shocks me and boggles my mind that anyone could ever accuse Nicole of being selfish or doing anything less than looking out for my best interest, but nonetheless this is exactly what was put before me. Again I return to a request for you to jump into Nicole’s white DC’s (step into her shoes). Here you are spending every waking hour at a hospital, scared out of your mind (but keeping it together for your then boyfriend’s sake), and doing all you can just to keep him mildly comfortable, only to have people question your motives for doing so? To say that would hurt would for sure be an understatement.
While I’m on a bit of a rant (minus the back alley, graffiti, and cool camera shots) I’ll bring in the issue of “things not to say”. I’m not so much doing this for the benefit of Nicole and I personally, but for the general understanding of what people like us go through in a situation like this and how NOT to say certain things.
For example, don’t use the word “just”… ever. Saying to either one of us, “You guys just need to stay strong” is not a smart thing to say. While it conveys a mild sense of support and well wishes, it also elicits an angry/sarcastic “Really? That’s it? I wish the doctor had told us that!” Take the word just out? Much better. Though still even without the word “just” such obvious statements are best left unsaid (I find). I realize in these situations no one knows what to say, but in such times simply being there for the person is more than any words could say. I myself recently faced such a situation myself after my wife’s best friend had her Grandfather pass away. Upon seeing her off to visit with her family that day I gave her a hug and said “I hope you have a good day”. I later realized how stupid that was to say, but Nicole reassured me “I think she was just happy you were there and gave her a hug” which was true. I would just say you don’t have to say anything to show support, and sometimes saying the wrong thing is worse than saying nothing at all.
When my father passed away I experienced countless expressions of sympathy from people. Some might say, “I’m so sorry.” Or “Don’t worry, things will get better with time.” The best words of sympathy I received from anyone were spoken by my then neighbour Jeff, who said three words: “That’s shitty man”. It touched me as no other words did because it meant simply “I understand”.
I had mentioned the possibility of the need for future surgery, which is in part why I am writing this blog update now. Once you are in the hospital, you don’t get to go for “Facebook / Blogger update time”, so best to say things now to cover future possible incidents.
#1) Nicole and I love the support we get from everyone but love and support are sometimes best from a distance. When you are in the hospital you are in a small, noisy, uncomfortable space. As nice as it is to see visitors, it can be overwhelming to deal with. I was terribly uncomfortable (physically and mentally) during my hospital stay 7 or so months ago. When guests arrived I felt the need to stay awake and talk to them, despite often being in pain and very tired (the hospital is not a great place to find good sleep). My social worker assured me this is a problem faced by the majority of hospital patients. I would not want to tell people not to come for a visit, however short visits to say “Hi, how are you doing?” are preferred to longer visits of people sitting in chairs staring at me for prolonged periods of time. During my rougher periods in the hospital I had made it clear to Nicole that I did not want visitors. I just wanted to sleep (or better yet “try to sleep”) which was not possible with people coming in and out. She indicated to others that it would be better not to come, which unfortunately some people took as Nicole trying to keep them away from me. Of course this is only natural given that from their perspective the (then) girlfriend is saying, “stay away” and when they show up the patient is saying “HEY GUYS! SO GLAD TO SEE YOU!” I truly was glad to see everyone who came, and it meant a lot to me. I just needed a lot of rest at that time. Perhaps a better future method would be to have designated “visiting hours” within the hospitals own allotted times such that I could get my rest guilt-free and be more alert for my visitors and be mildly awake to enjoy their company.
I’d like to repeat that I’m saying all of this in part to prepare for possibly finding myself in this situation again, but also to tell the patient’s side of the story to give people an understanding of what it is like to be in the hospital bed. If a patient tells all of his (or her) coworkers they’d be best not to come visit, it doesn’t mean there is some sort of issue between them, it just means they are in a lot of pain, on a lot of drugs, and less comfortable than time spent camping in the woods in a two person tent on top of a twin deflating air mattress.
#2) No whispering. Maybe this would not bother other people, but it bothered me. I found that a lot of the time my visitors would whisper to one another likely to avoid creating noise that would keep me from getting my rest. Instead it freaked me out and I became paranoid believing everyone was keeping secrets from me and that they all knew things they were not telling me. Maybe it was because some of the drugs I was on? All I know is that I far preferred it when people spoke at an audible level, even when speaking to one another, over the whispering.
#3) I want Nicole next to me as much as possible and as close as possible. Nicole often asked me “Do you want time to yourself?” offering to leave me alone in my hospital room while she went for a walk or some such thing. She was concerned I’d have “too much Nicole” and get tired of her being there. That was never even close to the case. If Nicole wasn’t there I was often panicked and felt anxious. More Nicole is better than Less Nicole. I think some people took this as Nicole trying to monopolize my free time (those times I was not in some sort of morphine-induced semi-nap) not allowing them to have such a time. Nicole never prevented anyone from having such a time and would have certainly left to allow anyone to have one-on-one time with me. No one ever asked. Perhaps some were thinking she would (should?) offer this up, but this was not the reality of the situation. For future, know that anyone (family, friend, tax collector or otherwise) is welcome to ask Nicole or anyone else in the room at that time for such time with me. Nicole would welcome it as I’m sure she had times where she was hungry or had to use the washroom but couldn’t bring herself to leave my side.
I think those are the most important points. Anyone who knows me knows that my number one concern is always “everyone else” and I am slowly learning to put myself somewhere on that list. This blog is being writing to express myself honestly without fear of “stepping on anyone’s toes” or feeling guilty for upsetting any of my readers. Those closest to me I have thanked a million times over for their love and support. I have discussed many of the above points with many of you one-on-one, but I felt it was necessary to have this discussion with everyone for the reasons I have already mentioned. I hope that I do not find myself in a hospital bed any time soon, but that if I do, everything will go smoothly and I won’t be in there long enough to have to worry about any of the above. I go for my results in about 24 hours +/- from now. I don’t expect I’ll be updating the world immediately afterwards or perhaps that day at all. I will try and make a point of giving at least a small update this weekend.
Cheers!
--
Tom
Monday, July 4, 2011
The Fantabulous adventures of Tom & Nicole on this Fine Day!
The Fantabulous adventures of Tom & Nicole on this Fine Day!
INTRO
---------
It is hot today. Especially in the apartment where I am currently sitting writing this most amazing of blog updates (you may find my writing style slightly affected by my viewing of a “Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About That!” episode this morning... but more on that later). Not just hot, but the kind of hot where you sweat buckets... from that area underneath your [man] boobs. Yes we have an A/C unit attached to the wall, however it is currently serving primarily as a decoration and noise-maker... but more on that later! I have had an amazing brilliant wonderful day spent with many shiny happy people (oddly Michael Stipe was not one of them). That joke in parenthesis (there called parenthesis when they're round) was for Chris B. which I hope he gets & appreciates. It all starts at the beginning which I am designating “Chapter 32” (remember I watched some trippy cartoons this morning)
CHAPTER 32
------------------
I awoke at approximately 9:28 am (yes it is going to be one of those way-too-long blogs). The air was a crisp sort of horrible stale. The walls were an off-white with little to impress the average tenant. Those two previous sentences were written specifically to annoy Nicole who believes I throw way too many irrelevant details into my stories (a fact I do not deny). Yes, this was going to be another hot day in the apartment. A couple of minutes later a SHP* named Shauna called. I knew it was her because I could hear her talking to someone else over the phone when I answered. This allowed me to greet her with an enthusiastic “Hey Shauna!” which I would usually have to wait two full rings to do (for the caller I.D. to kick in). She appreciates this style of greeting over my confused “Who the hell is this? Furthermore why are you calling me?” suspicious-toned “Hello?” She was making sure that Nicole and I were awake and prepared to take on the responsibility of keeping one of her children (Emma = very cute 4 1/2 year old) alive for a short period of time. I assured her we were. She arrived to drop off her child with what I assume was extreme nervousness. This nervousness is/was appropriate as I did kill off my fictitious adopted child “Mongo” some time ago (around Nicole’s birthday last year).
Babysitting doesn’t seem to make sense when looking after a nearly-five-year-old, so I shall say Nicole and I toddlersat her. Even that sounds wrong as we did not even once sit on her. I’ll say we toddlerlookedafterherforashortperiodoftime. Yes, that sounds perfect. She came equiped with her own alcoholic branded bag of snacks and treats so the job was made very easy. I happen to know children can survive 8+ hours without small sandwiches and carrots, but it was best not to test that “theory”. Nicole and I entered the fun world of having a kid for 3-4 hours. Obviously we experienced all parenting has to offer during that time. Among the various activities we enjoyed were: Children’s TV Shows (Thank you Netflix), Creepy Computer-Animated Dolphin Movies (I take that back Netflix!), Hide-’n-Sneak (suspiciously similar to a game I played as a child called “Hide-’n-Seek”), Princess ‘n Dragon (actually this game had no name but picture a game based upon imagination and pretend... weird I know, clearly Shauna and Kevin have failed as “modern day” parents), and drawing/colouring.
I was totally into the kids cartoons (obviously), but found it surprising how much actual scientific knowledge there was to be learned in those things. After catching the credits to the Cat in the Hat cartoons I found out why... Jay Ingram (host of “Daily Planet” and author of many cool books you can borrow from me at any time) was the scientific something-rather for the show. Plus Martin Short was the voice of the Cat (in the Hat) which was cool. Curious George was funny because he is a monkey!
Playing pretend with a 4 1/2 year old is interesting for two people (Nicole + me) who have a background in Psychology. What seems like fun has elements of Multiple Personalty Disorder mixed in. I haven’t read the entire DSM-IV-TR, however I’m told it is in there somewhere. I’m not worried as Emma showed no comorbidity or evidence of other disorders (hence I did not bother to collect any data or calculate a P-value). All I’m saying, is that it was hard to keep track of the princess and the girl who wasn’t the princess (though she looked to me exactly the same as the princess) given the many quick and at times inexplicable changes between the two. Leaving my psychobable aside, we did manage to kill the dragon after he grew up (prior to this he was a nice and generally kind dragon). I myself learned that children (or specifically Emma) can be incredibly smart as evidenced when she was playing with many of her own stuffed animals and one that we happened to have in the apartment. Emma stated “I really like this pony! I don’t have a pony [insert sad faced emoticon here]” to which Nicole quickly said “You can have that pony if you like!” to which Emma smiled. I forgot to mention but I had my own stuffed animal (Cuddles) who is a tiny stuffed dog (toy, not real... that would be creepy) that I believe my Grandma got me as a gift when I was first born and that I have kept ever since. I shall forever cherish my dog Cuddles. Back to playing with them: Emma then said “I really like that Dog too! I don’t have a dog like that [insert many more sad emoticons here]”. I said “Ya, I really like him too”. There were many comments from her after this point “I really wish I had one just like that one”, “I would really like a stuffed puppy”, etc. I give her credit... but not my Cuddles. Oh, we also played “Headbanz” which is a game where you put a card on your headband that only the other players can see and then you have to ask questions to guess what your card is. Nicole and I were severely hindered by our lack of Dora The Explorer specific knowledge as this was a Dora the Explorer Headbanz game. Emma did great.
I forgot a part of the story. Luckily my numbering system allows me to insert a chapter before this one.
CHAPTER 25
------------------
So when I woke up this morning, the water was off. I was guessing this would be the case after seeing that notice that informed us that the water would be shut off on Monday July 4th between 8:30 am and 4:00 pm. This part of the story contains a little “TMI”**. I had used up the first (and only) flush this morning upon waking up. I managed to wash my hands with hand sanitizer which Nicole keeps in the apartment in surprising abundance. Having to use the washroom again prior to Emma’s arrival I decided to keep the apartment’s odor at an “acceptable” level and headed on over to the Home Depot! (‘tis only a three minute walk). Suffice to say I just made it. Having eliminated that problem*** I quickly encountered another. I was hungry, had not had breakfast, and had to pass a Subway on the way out. I solved this problem by buying a 6-inch “Mega” breakfast sandwich on 9-grain whole wheat bread complete with some mayo, s&p, lettuce, tomatoes, green peppers, and onions (again, written obviously to annoy Nicole and possibly some of you). I also got a coffee (see! I write things like this and she sighs out loud! It’s fun). The coffee lid had a cool slider that opened and closed (that sentence was pushing it too far, I’m sorry love). I made it back to the apartment just in time to start the baby-sitting shenanigans! Please go to chapter 32 to continue this story! That makes it sound like a choose-your-own adventure book, but really you have only one choice... what I write. Sucker. Too bad for you. You can read sections again if you like, but that’s about it.
CHAPTER 48
------------------
I had an MRI today. I did well because Shauna wished me luck in hoping I would pass. I’m sure I pulled off a high 90’s (if that’s how it works). I didn’t sneeze or cough, or squeeze the emergency help ball for no good reason at any point. It was the usual incredibly loud noises, injection in the arm, claustrophobic time I’ve come to enjoy/expect. Just like when I go in for bloodwork I almost automatically sanitize my hands while saying “Thomas Sontag January 31 1984”. I could almost now go into the MRI room, strip off my clothes (behind a curtain - duh!) and while doing so say “I have no metal in my eye, I am not nor have ever been pregnant, my only previous surgery was a craniotomy on November 26th of 2010, I am allergic to penicillin, and have had no problems previously with receiving the contrast”. I feel so so very bad for Nicole who is kind enough to wait in the rather unimpressive MRI waiting room for me, probably nervous and worried as all hell. To make it more (symbolically) worse I handed her my wedding ring (as it is "real" and thus contains "metal") prior to disappearing behind two large doors from which I only return some half hour later. But I’m trying to keep this a happy magical Dr. Seuss-esque happy blog entry so I’ll write about that later this week.
I once again failed to fill out the pre-MRI form properly, partially filling in the date the receptionist is supposed to fill out. Form Fail. I shall get it right next time!!!
CHAPTER 55
-------------------
There is no chapter 55.
CHAPTER 56
-------------------
After the MRI Nicole and I decided to do something more fun than having a brain scan done and headed to The Forks for some fun. We managed to get some wonderfulerific coffees. Mine had no sugar but tasted pretty damned good nonetheless. Nicole had much less luck coffee-wise than I. Her first choice “Caramello” was sold out. Her second choice of “Macaroon Something” was also sold out. Her third choice was “Canadian Parfait” which they could not make because they had no ice cream left. She settled for “Moccacino” or some such thing. After leaving the Espresso Junction at the Johnston Terminal her coffee started leaking all over. I went back to get her a new lid and some napkins (as I am her husband, a gentleman, and a saint). The cashier noticed my cotton-ball-taped-on arm and asked if I was diabetic (remember I asked for a coffee with no sugar). I said “Oh no, I just had an MRI done”. I will now put Chapter 56 on hold to write what chapter 55 could have been if there would have been one.
CHAPTER 55 HYPOTHETICALLY SPEAKING
--------------------------------------------------------------
Having an inoperable cancerous brain tumour has some interesting side-effects. One of them is not knowing how much detail to go into with strangers who ask you simple questions like “What’s with the scar on your head?” or “Do you have any medical related conditions you’re not telling me about?”. When the Wal-Mart girl asks me “How are you today?” I usually go with a “Fine thanks! How are you?” over a “Well, before Christmas last year I was told I had a malignant tumour in my brain that would in all likelihood kill me within a year and had to go for immediate surgery which could also kill me. The last visit to the oncologist left me with a feeling things aren’t going so well at this point, so overall good enough? How are you!?” I usually keep the info to a minimum but in this case I opened up a bit. The girl said “I had a tumour removed just the other week!” She showed me her arm (where it was located) that now contained a scar and some deep bruising. I was shocked and told her a bit about my own uncontrolled cell growth. I don’t blame people for not having advanced knowledge about Stage 4 Glioblastoma Multiforme, as I must admit I didn’t prior to my own diagnosis, however I am amused by questions such as “So did they get it out?” or “But you’re fine now right?” I love that I am able to live my life day-to-day with little problems related to my tumour (aside from emotional breakdowns every now and then with my lovely wife Nicole there to help and support me), but I often wonder how things might be different if the scar went down my forehead and I walked with a limp. I’m thinking the questions would be different then.
CHAPTER 56 RESUMES!
-----------------------------------
So the coffee girl then offers me a business deal that seems hard to turn down: “Hey, so can you get medicinal marijuana? Because you totally should! And if you do come here because I’ll totally buy some off you! That was your wife right? You should just get it and sell the stuff to buy things for her!” I told her I would see about that and brought Nicole her new lid and some napkins. I asked her if she wanted me to buy her nice things supported by my medicinal marijuana side business. She assured me she was happy so long as she had me (she can be romantic like that).
We then went on a nice walk at the forks down a path, over a bridge, and back. Along the way we experienced a blockade of many many many dragonflies. We turned back but Nicole, the crazy adventurer she is, decided we should head back and try to defeat the blockade (or as she put it “Maybe they flew away”). Turns out my wife is brilliant as the dragonflies had all flown away. We should have headed the dragonflies obvious warning (blockade = you would be wise not to pass this point) as the path quickly became an insect ridden hellscape of mosquitoes and seeds and other annoying things flying in the air. We managed to make it back, all the way past the automatic (but not certainly not aromatic) manure composter, and the crazy hobo killers**** who I assume were lurking just behind the trees. We then headed to that cool star-gazing place but A) it wasn’t nearly dark enough yet, and B) I have not idea how that place is supposed to work. Also (known as “C”): there were a lot of mosquitoes. I didn’t specifically state it, but I hope it was implied that my lettering system denoted reasons we didn’t stay at the star-gazing place long.
CHAPTER 69
-------------------
If you just giggled or worse yet, Lol’ed you have a dirty dirty mind. GROW UP!
CHAPTER 70
------------------
We continued on our life’s journey by getting back into the car (which I’d parked like a pro... which is noteworthy as it is more of a “boat” than a “car”) and tried to leave the Forks. I decided to find my own “cool way out” which lead us to a parking lot where we could see fireworks, likely from our former employer and best minor-league baseball team in town, the Goldeyes! (shout-out to our former coworkers/peeps who would have been toiling away behind the scenes missing out on the entire show). Nicole had told me several minutes prior that she “really had to pee” so after sitting watching the fireworks for quite some time, she politely reminded me of this fact. Nicole is my wife. Nicole is very polite. As my wife Nicole has amazing bladder control. This is because:
Proposition #1) I am Nicole’s husband
Proposition #2) I have amazing bladder control
Syllogism) Nicole has amazing bladder control
I think I had trouble with my critical thinking class, and forgot to throw in there that as a couple Nicole and I share all traits and personality traits (as all husbands and wives naturally do). Also after living together for some time our cycles have in fact synchronized, which makes for an ugly week every now and then. I am of course referring to my chemo (temozolomide/accutane) cycle. You probably laughed when you read that last chapter, didn’t you? Such a dirty mind. Sigh...
CHAPTER SUPER BONUS
-------------------------------------
These are just random things. Marbles. Goats. Cheese. Wait, I tried to write random words but now realize that Cheese can be made from Goats and that Marble is a type of Cheese. Alas the universe is not as random as I thought. THERE IS A SUCH THING AS FATE!!! Wait, maybe I should tone it down a bit. Nicole might take me to the hospital if I keep shouting things like that out. That time I claimed to be a sexy turtle / alien from another dimension she made the right call in taking me there (see a prior blog post for that gem).
Nicole and I are the smartest / coolest couple ever. As such we have decided that if the band Nickleback ate a lot of a certain type of candy the would be called Skittleback. Logically it follows that consumption of many chocolate bars would create the new band: Snickerback.
Randomness continues. Hey, so the numbers in the William Ave parkade don’t really make sense. The elevator numbers don’t seem to match the parking level numbers WTF! We wasted a trip to the 4th floor FOR NO GOOD REASON TODAY! SU HSC!*****
CHAPTER NOT A CHAPTER
---------------------------------------
I think this chapter title might be somewhat Monty Python-esque which hopefully my Uncle Phill would be proud of. Ni!
So the air conditioner saga continues in the ol’ 205B. After that day of 50 bajillion degree temperature where the circuit breaker kept tripping every 15-30 minutes, the unit is only working on one side (the left if you were at all curious). The landlordess “Anne” has assured me that “Monday or Tuesday” they will come to replace our unit. This is code for “by the end of the week someone might come by to simply look at your unit, decide they can fix it but have to order a part first, and won’t come back for at least 15 days or until the snow falls”. I’ve learned how this apartment game works. I just hope it gets fixed before Lorelie moves in with the kids & fam, given my self-imposed “no pants for Tom” rule. Poor kids would be scarred for life (though I do where some classy boxers). I have been reminded that I am someone who always finds the silver lining in seemingly dire situations, so I shall conclude with the following:
“On the plus side, the constant dripping (at times flowing) of water from the A/C unit onto the floor due to extreme condensation does sound a might bit like a tiny waterfall which is rather soothing to listen to”. Done.
PROLOGUE
-----------------
I can’t remember if the prologue goes at the front or back of the novel, so let me just specify that this is the conclusion. I hope that this novel has caught you up on the modern day history of South America*******. I shall be writing more in the days to come. This is as likely as me getting a new A/C unit by tomorrow afternoon. My MRI results should be in Friday. Till then medical status update: I’m still alive.
I also had a crazy dream the other day which I shall share with you soon. I have pre-released the dream to members of the group “Fraggle Stick Cars”; aka: People who endlessly and tirelessly defend our country’s borders/border; aka: Rob Dunn.
DEDICATION
------------------
I’m 99.99999% sure this is supposed to go at the beginning, however this blog entry (and entire blog for that matter) is dedicated to Nicole O’Leary-Sontag, who is my wonderful, pretty, funny, amazing, supportive, food-making, awesome awesome wife :) I love you so much <3
POST SCRIPT
--------------------
I refuse to proof read the above. I tried to watch out for red squiggly lines, but I think anything more is asking too much of me. I don’t have an editor people.
ASTERISKS & MORE COMEDY
--------------------------------------------
*Shiny Happy Person
**Too Much Information
***Pun!
****By “Hobo Killer” I am of course referring to a crazy person who kills only hobos as opposed to hobos who will kill just about anyone, regardless of accommodation status.
*****SU = SCREW YOU! I’m too polite and well-mannered to go “with FU!”******
******FU = FUDGE YOU!
*******Little known fact: South America is a country that several stuffed animals (including a polar bear, two skunks, a pony, a puppy, and an earth worm) flew to today on an imaginary adventure!
CHAPTER 99 “THE LOST CHAPTER”
---------------------------------------------------
I think Nelson jumped out of plane. I sure hope he is alive.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
It's about time...
By the end of this post you will hopefully revisit the title and chuckle / be amazed by my clever wit.
Given my current situation I think I have the right to speak about the importance of time. One moment that sticks with me was when I first measured things not in monetary terms, but in their time equivalent. Back in the days of my youth, I might have visited a public house or two with some chums/pals of mine. We would occasionally partake in the enjoyment of a yeast-fermented malt flavoured beverage you might know more commonly as a "pint 'o beer". Sometimes these outings took place on a boat, but that is a story for another day. The average outing cost me $60.00 (though I oft returned with much of what those of you studying numismatics would readily recognize as "coin", sometimes totalling as much as $10, bringing my evening expenditures to a mere $50, but that is not important) which was the most I ever kept in my wallet at one time, for when consuming tasty beverages it is hard to continue when the monies are gone. But I digress, I once thought "Hey, these night's out are costing me $60 each time, but I only make $10 per hour!" After 37 or so hours of some complicated maths, I realized that during my average 8 hour shift I was leaving myself only two hours worth of income to spend for that day. It would have taken me far too long to factor in other expenses (gas, insurance, cell phone, etc.), but it was clear that spending "6 or more hours" had an impact on me far more than spending $60 did. The $60 just came out of some fancy machine at the bank. Anytime I needed more I just had to go back to the fancy machine!
I started to think more and more in terms of money as time from then on. It gave me a new perspective that has stuck with me. Money is not what is important. Time is. Sure, money is a finite resource we could all use more of, but that is only because it takes time to make money. If we had more time we could all make more money. I think it would be valuable for us all to be able to think in these terms from time to time (was that a pun?), however it would be easy to do so if taught to us from an early age. I am not a parent (sorry Mongo) so take my "here's how you should teach your kids" advice with a 50 pound bag of salt, but me thinks the following:
If your delightful/whiney child causes a fuss because they want something, help them work out how much it costs in terms of time. Perhaps the adult who makes an equivalent $30 per hour would take 3 hours to be able to afford a $90 video game that their wonderful/terrorist child so desires. The parent could then convert their time into their child's time based upon that amount. Let the child do 3 hours worth of "X" (be it chores, slave labour, spying on the neighbours, or spying on the Chinese government*) and the game is theirs. Of course this means the more the parent makes (on a dollar per hour basis) the less the child has to work. This seems only fair, given that as a percentage it works out the same, and the wealthier parent can afford to get their child more things.
*Your child should be some sort of computer hacker prodigy to do this.
Now of course, saying "no" to your child at all times / spoiling them rotten both remain viable options. The two could be intermixed with a haphazard "sometimes you get what you want, sometimes life's a bitch" type attitude teaching children the striking unfairness of most everything in life. Unless of course you are like Pat Robertson and believe Hurricane Katrina was sent by God to punish Americans (thus completely random act of nature = completely fair!)?
Anywhays, just a thought. Given that my blog is entitled "Tom's Thought's" I felt it an appropriate place to write it.
Boring ol' non-medical medical update: MRI is scheduled for Monday night at 8:30 pm (gotta love those late night MRI's... I hope there's an after party!), with results (probably/hopefully) Friday sometime. Cheers all!
--
Tom
Given my current situation I think I have the right to speak about the importance of time. One moment that sticks with me was when I first measured things not in monetary terms, but in their time equivalent. Back in the days of my youth, I might have visited a public house or two with some chums/pals of mine. We would occasionally partake in the enjoyment of a yeast-fermented malt flavoured beverage you might know more commonly as a "pint 'o beer". Sometimes these outings took place on a boat, but that is a story for another day. The average outing cost me $60.00 (though I oft returned with much of what those of you studying numismatics would readily recognize as "coin", sometimes totalling as much as $10, bringing my evening expenditures to a mere $50, but that is not important) which was the most I ever kept in my wallet at one time, for when consuming tasty beverages it is hard to continue when the monies are gone. But I digress, I once thought "Hey, these night's out are costing me $60 each time, but I only make $10 per hour!" After 37 or so hours of some complicated maths, I realized that during my average 8 hour shift I was leaving myself only two hours worth of income to spend for that day. It would have taken me far too long to factor in other expenses (gas, insurance, cell phone, etc.), but it was clear that spending "6 or more hours" had an impact on me far more than spending $60 did. The $60 just came out of some fancy machine at the bank. Anytime I needed more I just had to go back to the fancy machine!
I started to think more and more in terms of money as time from then on. It gave me a new perspective that has stuck with me. Money is not what is important. Time is. Sure, money is a finite resource we could all use more of, but that is only because it takes time to make money. If we had more time we could all make more money. I think it would be valuable for us all to be able to think in these terms from time to time (was that a pun?), however it would be easy to do so if taught to us from an early age. I am not a parent (sorry Mongo) so take my "here's how you should teach your kids" advice with a 50 pound bag of salt, but me thinks the following:
If your delightful/whiney child causes a fuss because they want something, help them work out how much it costs in terms of time. Perhaps the adult who makes an equivalent $30 per hour would take 3 hours to be able to afford a $90 video game that their wonderful/terrorist child so desires. The parent could then convert their time into their child's time based upon that amount. Let the child do 3 hours worth of "X" (be it chores, slave labour, spying on the neighbours, or spying on the Chinese government*) and the game is theirs. Of course this means the more the parent makes (on a dollar per hour basis) the less the child has to work. This seems only fair, given that as a percentage it works out the same, and the wealthier parent can afford to get their child more things.
*Your child should be some sort of computer hacker prodigy to do this.
Now of course, saying "no" to your child at all times / spoiling them rotten both remain viable options. The two could be intermixed with a haphazard "sometimes you get what you want, sometimes life's a bitch" type attitude teaching children the striking unfairness of most everything in life. Unless of course you are like Pat Robertson and believe Hurricane Katrina was sent by God to punish Americans (thus completely random act of nature = completely fair!)?
Anywhays, just a thought. Given that my blog is entitled "Tom's Thought's" I felt it an appropriate place to write it.
Boring ol' non-medical medical update: MRI is scheduled for Monday night at 8:30 pm (gotta love those late night MRI's... I hope there's an after party!), with results (probably/hopefully) Friday sometime. Cheers all!
--
Tom
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